


Ben and Rey Make Risotto

by kalx58



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bratty Rey, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Ben Solo, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Soft Ben Solo, Spanking, Submissive Rey (Star Wars), come for the daddy kink stay for the risotto recipe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalx58/pseuds/kalx58
Summary: Rey enjoys a quiet night in with her boyfriend.And Rey has never done this before, but she’s excited to do it now with Ben, to give her big, bashful boyfriend this thing he wants, to make those full lips go slack with pleasure—to worm her way into his id, to transform this thing he thinks is shameful into something safe and good and real.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 271





	Ben and Rey Make Risotto

“Rey. Why are you holding a fork.” 

“I’m hungry,” she whines, frowning at how Ben has an arm stretched across the doorway, barricading her from the kitchen. She hooks her chin over his arm, looking down at the pot sizzling on the stove. “It smells so good.” 

“It will be good. In twenty more minutes.” 

“Can I try it now? Just a taste?”

“No. It will be bad, because it’s not ready. And I want you to be impressed.” 

“I’m already impressed. Risotto! Wow!”

He waves a spoon at her threateningly. He’s wearing her Jamba Juice apron from when she worked there years ago, and it barely stretches over his large body. “Just sit back on the couch, drink the wine I poured you, and let me have control of the kitchen.”

“I feel like my stomach is eating itself,” she says, clutching it. 

“What are you talking about? I left you appetizers on the coffee table.”

“Well…”

He gapes, looking past her to the empty plate on the coffee table. “You ate all of those? Already? Half of them were supposed to be for me.” 

She takes advantage of his distraction to duck under his arm, scurry around him and dip her fork into the pot. She makes a face. 

“It’s too hot and the rice is hard.”

He turns back to her, face pinched. She knows he likes having his own space in the kitchen, setting everything out in advance the way cookbooks are always ordering you to, the act of presenting her with something he’s cooked—but only when he finally decides it’s perfect.

“Rey! I told you—” In a quick motion, he grabs her around the waist and pushes her against the sink, his front to her back. He presses her shoulders down gently, so she’s bent over the sink. She sees his other hand grope around the drying rack next to them. “What did I tell you?” he says, and she feels the sting of her Ikea wooden spoon coming down on her ass. She can hear the smile in his voice.

Rey juts her hips back against him, wiggling her ass against the beginnings of an erection. “I was just so hungry,” she says, aiming for plaintive, staring at the wall. “I couldn’t help it.” 

The spoon comes down again and she yelps. “No, you just were being a brat,” Ben says cheerfully. 

It’s the perfect opening to test something she's been curious about. She turns her head to look back at him and lets the whine creep back into her voice. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

He freezes, and his eyes widen. She hears his sharp inhale and feels his hips pushing forward restlessly. He’s definitely hard now.

She pounces, twisting to push him against the counter, pinning him with an arm on either side. “Ha! I knew it, I knew it,” she chants, rubbing her body against him triumphantly. “You do want me to call you daddy.” 

He pulls her tightly into his chest, so she can’t see his face.

“Maybe,” he finally says. 

“Okay,” Rey says politely, feeling like there’s more.

“You don’t think it’s...weird?” He sounds a little anguished, like he’s worried she’ll flee in disgust. 

She worms her head out of his grasp to look up at him. “Weirder than the fact that I want you to put your giant dick in my ass one of these days?” she says innocently.

He choke-laughs, letting his hands trail down her back to grab her ass. She sighs a little at the feel of his big hands kneading her.

“I guess I’m just a little self-conscious because of, well—”

“Because you’re ancient, and I’m a fetus and because of how we met,” she says patiently. “Right. We've been over this. I respect your feelings, but I reject the premise that it’s weird. I know you don't have some weird age fetish. So.”

She feels his cock growing harder against her stomach. “You’re sure you want to do this?” 

“Um. Yes. It’s hot,” she says, pulling back to look at him. “And you’ve gone and made me horny, and Rose is gone all night, so...now?”

He pulls her tighter, kisses her head and then untangles them. “Okay. I’m going to get the risotto to a good stopping place. You go into your room and wait for me.” 

Rey is already trotting away. “Okay, sounds good.”

“And, Rey?” She turns, and his face is hesitant. “Maybe you could wear a skirt? Like, if you feel like it?” 

She crosses the kitchen and hugs him again, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “Ben. I’m excited about this. If at any point I become less excited, I’ll tell you, and we can stop. But until that point, feel free to be as bossy, or….whatever as you want. I can handle it. I promise.” 

She feels him relax a little. “Okay. Thanks for saying that.” She feels movement behind her, and then the wooden spoon comes down against her in another hard smack. “Also. Don’t touch yourself until I get there.” 

* * *

Rey shoves open her closet door, digging through the mess of clothes until she finally unearths the kicky black skirt she’s looking for. She’d bought it from a thrift store for a costume years ago, and when she pulls off her underwear and puts it on, she’s reminded of how her body has changed. Her ass is a little fatter, her thighs a little curvier, and now the skirt barely covers her cunt. Perfect. She digs around some more, looking for the white button-down she uses for job interviews and the occasional cater waiter gig. It’s a little wrinkly, but she doesn’t think Ben will mind, she thinks as she pulls off her bra. She decides to go full Britney, knotting the shirt over her breasts and putting her hair into sloppy pigtails. She frowns at the result in the mirror. A little too much, she thinks, arranging her hair into a high ponytail instead. (And besides. That’s how her hair was when they first met, her yawning and hungover. Maybe he’ll think it’s romantic.) 

She putters around the room, making her bed, turning off the overhead light, putting her bedside lamp on. Maybe if the room looks slightly different, it’ll free Ben from feeling like he has to act the way he normally does during sex. Or something like that, she thinks, looking down at her chipped glitter nail polish. And then she sits on the bed and waits. 

She’s immediately bored, antsy with anticipation. How much could Ben possibly have to do to the risotto? She lies back on the bed, planting her feet on either side of the mattress. And then she slowly draws them up. She doesn’t even really realize that she’s touching herself at first. Hmm. Maybe she should stop. Or...maybe not, she thinks, thoughts turning to Ben. He’s just so tall, and so cute, and he always eats her pussy with so much enthusiasm, she thinks dreamily, circling her clit. 

Rey had never appreciated her school’s commitment to a well-rounded liberal arts education more than when she’d walked into history class last semester, fulfilling a requirement she’d put off too long, and seen Ben, the grad student teaching her section. He delivered his lectures in a stern tone, but stammered whenever answering questions. She preferred proofs and problem sets to history, but had spent three months genuinely trying to pay attention to this easily-flustered wall of a man as he droned on about something hideously boring, like dust bowl desertification or the Roberts Court. Despite her efforts, she kept thinking instead about his hair, and how soft it’d feel between her thighs. He’d seemed shocked when she’d marched into his classroom on the last day of the semester, leaned against the corner of his desk and asked if he wanted to go for a drink that night. She’d almost expected him to earnestly say, “Who, me?” which, of course, had made her even more eager to straddle him on that uncomfortable-looking chair and fuck him while he finished grading papers. 

She’d tried to get him in her bed that night, but he’d held on to some scrap of restraint they apparently teach you in grad school, and despite her hints about him coming upstairs with her, and her pouting—and she can do an excellent, Olympic-worthy pout—he’d resisted, just kissing her tenderly goodnight. 

Her frustration hadn’t lasted long. He’d texted the next day to see if she’d wanted coffee—two minutes later: “Or tea? If that’s what you prefer”—and that afternoon, she’d ended up happily on her back, legs slung over his shoulders, as he’d pushed into her with an satisfied grunt that had burned into her brain. 

It’s been four happy months since that day. Sometimes, she felt bad, at how much their sex life revolved around what she wanted. Not that he’d complained, always enthusiastic when cycling through Rey’s ideas—one, then two fingers in her ass as she’d wiggled back on them, breathing hard; morning cunnilingus followed immediately by French toast, the second part an integral part of the fantasy, she'd stressed—-but she wanted him to have something special, some idea she could make come true for him. And Rey was down for anything, except for like, pee, and sex in water (the excruciating, paradoxical feeling of being incredibly wet yet so dry; the constant fear of a shower concussion.) Maybe there wasn’t anything else he wanted, she thought initially. But still, the way he looked sometimes when they were having sex, like he wanted to ask for something, but couldn’t find the words—-it made her curious.

He’d been a little vague, furtive even, whenever she’d asked him about it directly. But then she thought about how much he seemed to worry about their age difference. At first, it had bothered her. “You know, I’d much rather talk about why you actually like me instead of your psychosexual angst about why you shouldn’t,” she snapped once. What was a seven years age difference, except different music tastes, and the cultural trauma that came with living through two Bush presidencies? 

“I just feel like a cliche sometimes,” he’d said one afternoon, while they studied at his apartment. “Like one of those creepy old husbands with a 25-year-old wife on that awful show you and Rose watch.”

“I think my would boobs need to be bigger to be RHONY material—” 

“Hey, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your boobs—” He’d reached over to cover one with a palm possessively, like he didn’t want it to hear.

“Shh. And thanks. But, hello, seven years is not 20. Also, the amount I’m going to make in my summer engineering internship is probably more than your stipend. I mean, no offense.”

Irritated, she’d thought she might ban him from eating her out if he brought it up again. But then she wondered if he mentioned it so often because his unease was twined with an…interest in some sex thing complicated—at least in his mind— by their age difference, and the whole internal push-pull caused him even more self-loathing. So she’d put on her mental detective cap. They’d watched a movie Rose had recommended for it’s absurd twist, and they’d both laughed through every scene. Except for the ones when Anne Hathaway, in a ridiculous dye job, had simpered about her daddy. Rey had almost almost cackled. But Ben had fallen silent, tapping his fingers against his knee in a restless pattern. And Rey noticed that when he really lost himself in sex, his words became dirtier, more proprietary—“That’s it, you can take it,” he’d growled one morning, providing Rey with ample mastabatory fodder for the nights they spent apart—and she’d speculated that maybe, just maybe, what Ben wanted was her gasping in his ear, calling him Daddy.

And Rey has never done this before, but she’s excited to do it now with Ben, to give her big, bashful boyfriend this thing he wants, to make those full lips go slack with pleasure—to worm her way into his id, to transform this thing he thinks is shameful into something safe and good and real. 

* * *

She has a finger inside herself when he walks in. But only one, so she doesn’t really deserve a frown quite so severe, she thinks indignantly, as his gaze travels slowly down her body. She sees his eyes go big for a brief second at her pose—her legs splayed wide, her knees up so her cunt is exposed to his gaze—but then he turns to shut the door. 

He turns back, moving to stand between her legs and look down at her. And now, his eyebrows are pulled together, his gaze firm. She slowly removes her finger. The apron is off and he’s in the staid, professional clothes he’s been wearing all day. 

“Rey. I told you not to do that.”

His voice is low and dark, with a harshness he’s never used with her before, and he’s not smiling. His mouth is set in a resolute line, and he looks like he’s very, very disappointed in her. She distractedly notices that she’s clenching around nothing. 

She tries to look ashamed as she snaps her legs back together and scrambles to sit up. “I’m sorry.” 

“You know,” he says pleasantly, moving a little closer. “I don’t think you are. But that’s okay.” 

She looks at him warily. 

He reaches forward to take her chin in his hand, tilting it up. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to make me come and then I’ll make you feel good. And like I said, don’t touch yourself. But this time, you need to listen to me, okay?” 

She nods, abashed, and then peeks up at him

“Okay, Daddy.”

His nostrils flare and she thinks she sees something twitch on his face. But he doesn’t say anything, or move to touch her. He just inclines his head, hands in his pockets, like he’s waiting for her to get on with it. 

She’s face to face with his sizable erection, straining and obscene through the fabric of his sensible chinos. She unbuttons his pants, drags down the zipper, and slowly pulls down his boxer briefs. His cock slaps against him. . 

“Wow,” she breathes, like she’s seeing it for the first time. “You’re so big,” she says, tracing him with her index finger. She shifts into a prim posture, sitting on her heels, knees tucked under her skirt, back straight. She takes him in her hand and leans forward, but pauses, his cock poised over her open mouth. She widens her eyes, tries to look intimidated and innocent. “ I—I don’t know if I can even fit...” 

She hears a snort above her (he’s probably thinking of the way that after their third date, a disgustingly romantic picnic he’d planned, she’d pushed him against the wall of his living room and sank to her knees, growling, “I’ve thought about this all semester,” before swallowing him down) but then the sound changes to a moan as she puts her mouth on him. She takes as much of him as she can and then slowly drags her mouth down his length, swirling her tongue around the tip.

It already feels different than their usual sex. She likes seeing this new domineering part of him, enjoys sinking into a docile headspace where her only goal is to feel good and be good for him. 

“You’re doing such a great job, baby,” he says. His hand comes up to cup her jaw, and then trails down her face, tracing around her lips where they’re stuffed with his cock. “You look so pretty like this.” 

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says from around him, and his eyes darken at the way she sounds, her words garbled. His hips nudge forward. 

“I’m going to fuck your face, just a little, okay?” 

Rey lets his cock slide from her mouth and blinks up at him, expression fearful. (And least 40% of it is genuine; she’s gagged on it before.) “I—I don’t know if I can, it might be too big—”

“Rey, you want to make me feel good, right? So I can make you come?” 

She nods slowly. 

“You need to try. I think you can be good for me. Now open your mouth. No, wider. ” 

When he pushes in, it’s rougher, the pace faster. Rey has to work hard to keep up with his rhythm, feeling spit start dripping from the sides of her mouth as her eyes begin to water. Her focus shrinks to him, a too-big intrusion, as she takes him deeper, her jaw beginning to ache as she works to fit even more of him into her mouth.

“You feel so good. Just a little more, okay?” 

She nods obediently around him, feeling the drool dribble from her mouth. 

He winds his hand in her ponytail and pulls her where he wants her, holding her at his base for a few seconds as she breathes through her nose, works frantically to relax her throat as he thrusts. He releases his grip and she sucks in a breath. 

“I knew you could be good for me,” he says, sounding proud. 

Rey smiles sweetly up at him, happy to have pleased him. Fuck, Rey likes this, so much more than she thought she would, she thinks as she leans to take him inside her mouth again, dragging her tongue down his length. It’s so nice to roll around in the fantasy of being an impulsive brat, far away from the tick tock of school, work and her other daily stresses. She likes giving into impulses she’d usually stifle, the chance to be impetuous and immature in a way that somehow, amazingly, makes her her giant, kind boyfriend stupid horny. She’s dizzy with it, how shivery his deep voice makes her feel, how selfishly he’s using her. 

And it’s all so good that she can’t help shifting a little, letting her legs spread further apart. If she tilts forward a little, she can sort of roll her cunt on the bed, granting her clit the tiniest amount of relief. In what Rey thinks of as an impressive feat of multitasking, she’s able to make these tiny rolls of her hip while she still sucking eagerly on Ben’s cock—occasionally dipping down to lick delicately at his balls—feeling pleasure start to slowly creep its way through her body. 

Except then there’s a sudden pressure at her hair, and Ben is yanking her off him, and she definitely doesn’t want that. She watches a string of spit stretch from her mouth to his cock, which she’s looking at longingly because she wants to chase after it and keep sucking him, and why is he glaring at her—

“Rey,” he says, breathing hard, grip still tight in her hair. His mouth is a firm line. “I hope you weren’t doing what I think you were doing.” 

She lets out a gusty sigh and looks away, biting her lip. He tugs her back by the hair to meet his scowling gaze. 

“Were you trying to get yourself off without me knowing? Were you getting a wet spot on your nice duvet? Rey, look at me.”

A rush of embarrassment courses through Rey. He’d seen her essentially humping her comforter. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she says in a tremulous whisper, her eyes downcast. “I’m just so wet.”

“You need to come, baby girl?”

She nods, shamefaced. “Please, Daddy,” she whispers. “I need it so bad.” 

He moves his hand from her hair to snake under her under her skirt. Rey’s eyebrows fly up at the feel of one thick finger pressing into her. He’s going to find out how wet she already is, and maybe—

“I see,” is all he says. She tries to clench around him, but his expression is bored as he pulls it out. 

“But I don’t think you deserve that, do you, Rey? No, don’t pout. You’re being a brat. I think you need to be punished.”

“No, no, please.” She aims for appeasement. A friendly, reasonable negotiation. “I promise I’ll be good. Please—you don’t have to do anything, I can keep doing this, and you can fuck my face some more? Just please don’t—”

“Rey, get on all fours and face the wall.”

She sighs and does what he asks, albeit at a pace slower than he’d probably prefer. In this position, with her back arched, her skirt just barely covers the tops of her ass cheeks. She knows what he’s going to do, but it still hurts when his hand comes down in a vicious slap. 

She lets out a little squeak. 

His stupid big hands, she thinks petulantly as he spanks her again. They're so gigantic and they cover her so thoroughly, whatever he's doing. Which is great. Most of the time (massages, a steadiness at her back propelling her through bar crowds, etcetera.) Right now, it just means more surface area—ow, that one really hurt, goddamnit—to cover with stinging blows. And yet each smack makes her just a little more wet, and fuck, she’s so turned on that if he touched her once—

“Rey, I wish you would stop acting like a brat and just be good for me,” he says, sounding sad as he slaps her again. “I want to make you feel good. It’s not like I enjoy having to punish you like this.”

She rolls her eyes at the wall. She’d gotten a break in The Mysterious Case of Ben Solo’s Kinks when, one night, he asked her very seriously, very politely, if he could spank her sometime. Of course, only if she wanted too. And it was totally, absolutely fine if she had no interest. He’d never bring it up again! He’d said this all to the ceiling, like he couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her, his ears turning red, throat bobbing nervously. And then he’d let out a startled noise when Rey had immediately flung herself over his lap and looked back at him with a sunny grin. 

“Ow! Fuck, Daddy, that hurts!” Rey says after the next slap. She feels him pause for a half second—maybe waiting for her safe word (LaTeX; he hadn’t recognized the reference, her adorable little history PhD who never needed to use anything more technically advanced than Google Docs)—and when she impatiently wiggles back at at him, he smacks her again, the sound loud.

“Language. And remember, you did this to yourself.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says with a sniff. She’s not actually crying, but the pain always makes her eyes water.

He pauses, rubbing his hands over where he’s slapped her. Then he lets one hand slide forward, in between her cheeks, to cup her cunt. 

“So wet,” he murmurs. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please fuck me,” she says, whipping her head back, staring at him with a confused, pleading look. “But I thought you—”

“I’m feeling benevolent. Now, get down on your elbows.” 

She drops down, feeling him kneel down behind her on the bed. She squeals at the feeling of his cock, gently stroking along her cunt. 

“Oh, thank you Daddy,” she says with a little sigh, before letting out an delighted, guttural noise when he pushes in. It’s so satisfying, so perfect, the way she always needs to catch her breath as he works his way in, and how now, the feeling of his hips, when he bottoms out, press against her reddened ass, sending sensitive twinges through her, accentuating the pleasure. 

“I love how you take me,” he says, tone low, pulling out and pushing back in quickly. “You always squirm a little. Like you’re a little too small, but you’re just so desperate, you’ll do anything to make it fit.”

“Please, please,” she hears herself say, begging mindlessly for whatever he wants to do to her. All rational thought is gone and Rey just wants to come. “Harder— so good—oh, God—” 

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and she shoves a hand to her clit, rubbing it frantically and truly, just a few seconds later—it’s everything, the feeling of him driving into her, his impatient noises, the way her ass still kind of aches—she’s coming with a gasping cry, her legs trembling with the intensity of it. 

“It feels so nice when you come on my cock like a good girl. What do you say?” he croons, fucking into her with harder, shorter thrusts.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says dutifully, face smashed against the covers. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight, I’m going to come soon.” His voice is a little desperate, like the control he’s had this entire time is finally starting to fray.

Yes, Ben’s moaning and teeth-gnashing about their age difference had annoyed Rey. But knowing that she had tempted upright, adorable-when-guilty Ben—someone who, to her disbelief, actually fully turned off his phone when those movie theater warnings told you to, instead of just checking if it was on silent—into changing his mind, pushing past his personal moral code was was electrifying. And maybe this is related, she thinks. The feeling of being wanted enough to warrant someone’s entire focus, their discipline, their praise. 

Rey finally gets her breath back. “You can fuck me as hard as you need, Daddy,” she says in a small voice, looking back with a shy smile. 

That gets her the reaction she wants—a ground-out “fuck,” a flurry of deep thrusts that feel like they’re reaching every part of her—and then, she feels his hand rubbing around her cunt, the wetness there. 

“I don’t know where I want to come,” he says in her ear. “Here?” he says, dipping the tip of his finger inside her, next to where he’s stretching her. She squeezes around it with a whimper. Then his hand slowly trails over her chest to rub a nipple. “Or on your tits?” And his hand keeps moving, and then one of his fingers pushes into her panting mouth. “Or maybe here?” 

She sucks on it hard, and then he withdraws it. “What do you think, Rey?”

Her brain is absolute mush. “Ummmm….whereever you want, Daddy?”

He laughs a little breathlessly as he pulls out. “That’s correct.” (The same thing he used to say when she’d answer a question in class, and god, she’s so happy they ended up here.) He grabs her hips and urges her over, so she’s on her back staring up at him. 

He bends over her, propped up on one hand. His other hand comes down to pull open her shirt and tweak one of her nipples. “Touch yourself,” he orders. “I want you to pinch your nipples so they’re all red when I come on them.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Rey says, orgasm-dazed and compliant. He moves, angling himself over her chest, and she feels small and vulnerable, on her back under his broad body. His eyes flit over her, taking in everything: her rucked-up skirt, open shirt, flushed face, tangled hair, the hand moving over her breast. Her eyes flutter shut when she pinches one nipple particularly hard.

“Look at me,” he demands, and she stares at him, watching how after a few furious strokes, he’s coming in thick ropes across her chest with a loud groan, eyes dark and feral and glued to her. He surges forward, pulling her hair to meet him at an awkward angle and kissing her messily, and then crashes onto the bed next to her. 

“Jesus christ,” he says eventually, panting. 

“And I never interrupted your cooking again,” she says, turning her face to smile at him.

He lets out a wheezing laugh. “That was. That was the hottest—ever. Rey. You. That was so amazing. That was everything—thank you. I didn’t think that it could ever—just. God.” 

“I really liked that,” Rey says “It was so—” but she’s cut off when he kisses her again, and moves to take her in his arms.

She twists away, laughing. “Ben! Let me clean off first. I don’t want to get come all over your sweater.” 

“Oh,” he says, looking down at himself. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” 

Rey hops off the bed, pulls off the shirt and skirt, and walks to the bathroom. She pauses in the living room, looking at where her phone is charging. She picks it up, and takes a picture of herself, Ben’s come still dripping down her chest. She smiles at the results. Perfect. She’ll send that to him the next time she wants to get punished. 

When she gets back to her room, Ben is lying on the bed in the same spot. She pulls on a tank top and sweats, and crawls onto the bed next to him.

“You alive, old man?” she says, fitting herself under his arm. 

“Barely,” he says. “I think my breathing just went back to normal. Did I mention how much I liked that?”

“Everything you said—you were super hot,” she says. “You seemed to really know what you were doing. Are you sure you’ve never done that before?”

“I’ve, uh, been thinking about it for a long time.” His cheeks are turning red, and now shy Ben is eclipsing stern daddy Ben, and Rey is very, very grateful she gets both. “Um. Maybe. Especially since we started dating.” 

“I can be a huge brat sometimes.”

“Maybe. But I love you.” 

Every time he says it, Rey feels something in her trill with happiness. 

“I love you too,” she says. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I didn't know I’d be so into that. So, also thanks for helping me learn something about myself?” 

“Well, you know,” he says, voice sliding into his lecture monotone. “A true scholar brings the spirit of pedagogy and intellectual exploration everywhere they go.”

She giggles. “Shush. You’ve still got one more year before you’re officially a snobby history doctor. You’re still in your humble scholar phase.” 

“Speaking of, are you still down for me to bore you tomorrow?”

The new semester was starting next week, and Ben, always nervous about the public speaking teaching required, had asked her if he could practice the first few minutes of his inaugural lecture on her.

“Yeah, of course. I thought I’d make pancakes and mimosas, make it a whole thing.”

“Your usual pancakes?”

“Yep. Bisquick and chocolate chips.”

“Yes,” he says, shifting his arm to wrap it more tightly around her. “Those are so fucking good.”

She cuddles closer to him, and they sit together silently for a few minutes. And then Rey pokes him gently in the stomach. 

“Hey,” she says imperiously. “Don’t forget that you still need to feed me. I’m looking forward to this risotto. Ancient Solo family recipe, right?” 

He sighs heavily as he stands, grinning down at her. “So demanding.” Then he hauls her up and slings her over his shoulder.

“Alright,” he says, slapping her ass lazily as he walks them into the living room. “If I bring you another glass of wine, do you promise to be good this time?” 

“Yes?”

He smacks her again—it's honestly more of a hearty pat, she thinks she’s worn him out—and Rey takes a second to consider.

“Well. I can try.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [Make this risotto, you won't regret it](https://smittenkitchen.com/2006/11/tomato-and-sausage-risotto/) \+ [Where I turned for spiritual guidance during the writing of this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpiD2FJ0LPw) \+ [Give Anne Hathaway an Oscar for Serenity!](https://twitter.com/intothecrevasse/status/1088437782169702402) \+ Ben's jokey post coital line about being A Scholar probably entered my brain from reading Sarah Caudwell's mysteries about this group of boozy British lawyers who solve low-stakes mysteries while chain smoking, talking about The Life of the Mind and forcing each other to pay for lunch. The [first one](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/234327.Thus_Was_Adonis_Murdered) is about a woman who is so horny she accidentally stumbles into a murder...relatable!
> 
> [ Occasional tweets here](https://twitter.com/kalx58)


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